


Worship Me (With Butterfly Kisses)

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock grinned. “Why, John…” he said, leaning down to press his lips against the curve of John’s ear. “<i>You encourage me.<i></i></i>” His tongue darted out once more, lapping the salt from John’s skin.  John moaned, fingers twisting into the hair at the back of Sherlock’s head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship Me (With Butterfly Kisses)

“John….” Sherlock breathed, long pale fingers twisted in short sandy hair. “John, John, John, John!” His litany was cut off with a sharp cry as he arched from the bed, John chuckling far below.

“Good?” he murmured, sliding up the bed. Sherlock nodded, panting as John kissed along his neck, their lips pressing together moments later in a salty kiss.

“My turn,” Sherlock mumbled, rolling John onto his back. John gasped as teeth grazed over his nipples, hands going to Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Sherlock!”

“Quiet, John,” Sherlock said, tongue darting out to tease at the stiff, pebbling bump. “You taste divine.” John nodded, head falling back on the pillows as Sherlock moved lower, tongue and teeth grazing over his hip. Sherlock hummed in approval as John’s cock jerked, his hands coming up to wrap around his thighs. “Good, John.”

John laughed, high and breathless, heels digging into the bed as his hips jerked up. “Sherlock!”

“You’re ticklish, John?” Sherlock rumbled, marking him with the small red crescents of nails and teeth. “Surely, I would have noticed by now.”

“No!” John gasped. “Your eyelashes.”

“....Oh…” Sherlock said, raising his head. “Butterfly kisses.” He paused, gaze fixed on John’s flushed face, a slow smile spreading over his own.

John raised his head, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as Sherlock dipped his head, running his nose over the curve of John’s stomach. “What are you doing?” he murmured, running a hand through Sherlock’s curls.

“Butterfly kisses of course, do keep up,” Sherlock said. He paused his movements, pressing his cheek to John stomach and blinking twice in rapid succession.

John smiled.“You ridiculous man.”

“It is only the constant presence of your warmth and understanding and _your_ ridiculous focus on social niceties that keeps me so,” Sherlock replied, raising his head and moving up the bed to straddle John’s waist.

 _“_ How do I keep you ridiculous exactly?” John asked with a joking scowl.

Sherlock grinned. “Why, John…” he said, leaning down to press his lips against the curve of John’s ear. “ _You encourage me_.” His tongue darted out once more, lapping the salt from John’s skin. John moaned, fingers twisting into the hair at the back of Sherlock’s head.

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing,” Sherlock replied, licking his lips as John unintentionally did the same, the soldier’s eyes squeezed shut against the waft of hot air across his neck. “I’m demonstrating.”

“Dem...demonstrating what?” John asked, body tensing with anticipation as Sherlock’s fingers danced over his thigh.

“How you encourage me, John.”

John gasped, eyes flying open even as his hands moved to twist the bed sheets instead. “Sherlock,” he moaned, chest heaving. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re terribly bossy in bed,” Sherlock said quietly, hand twisting. “I like it.”

“I know you do,” John said, pushing his hips up in response to Sherlock’s movements, cock leaking. “Please, more.”

Sherlock took his hand away and lazily raised it to his mouth, licking his palm. “Yes, sir.” He replaced his hand, thumb wicking away moisture as he pulled John’s cock in long, slow strokes.

“God, I love your hands,” John muttered, biting his lips against another moan.

“What else?” Sherlock asked.

“Your voice,” John said, hips jerking. “Your neck. Your cock.”

“What else?”

“Your eyes. Your eyelashes. Your...god...fingers and your hands.”

“No repetition, John, that’s considered bad form,” Sherlock said, reaching out to cup his face as he leaned down and pressed their lips together.

“Mmm, don’t care,” John said, pushing up into him. “Your arse, too, I like that.”

“You just enjoy it because it means we get to _fuck_ ,” Sherlock said, emphasizing the last word with a pop of teeth on lips and a sly chuckle.

“Have I mentioned I love your voice?” John groaned.

“Yes,” Sherlock purred, dropping his head to John’s ear again, hips rutting along John’s thigh. “In fact, if asked, I’m sure we could conduct an experiment to show just how much.”

“Yeah?” John panted, chest heaving.

“Yes. You enjoy when I swear and whisper dirty things in your ear, so perhaps I’d tie you down and keep you there until you were hard and aching from the images I put in your ear,” Sherlock said. “I’d say things like, imagine John. Imagine what it would look like if I was on my knees in front of you. Sucking your cock, licking and teasing until you came all over my lips and cheeks.” John groaned, pushing up into Sherlock’s hand. “You enjoy hearing me speak like that,” Sherlock said quietly. “But I enjoy watching your reaction to my words. The flush over your skin. The way your sweat beads like dew on your neck and face. The way your nipples raise and pebble, hard and tender for my teeth.” He chuckled. “The way your cock waits for me to give you that one...final...push…” John tensed, and with a shout came, Sherlock swooping down to swallow his spill.

“Oh my god,” John breathed, as Sherlock licked his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to John’s stomach.

“Not quite.”

John laughed, tugging Sherlock up to lay his head on his chest. “Not quite. But very nearly,” he murmured, placing one hand on Sherlock’s back and the other behind his head. “I would worship you, Sherlock Holmes, if your ego wasn’t already too big to fit in a chapel.”

Sherlock scoffed, shifting so his ear rested above John’s heart, listening as its pace slowed in the dim light of their bedroom. “What would you sacrifice?”

“Everything,” John said, scraping his nails gently over Sherlock’s back. “Anything you wished.”

“Why?”

“Because I have chosen to love you. And even if you were to somehow able to force me to be your disciple, nothing much would change. I love you.”

Sherlock hummed noncommittally, hand drifting over John’s stomach and into the sparse blonde grey hairs of his groin before tracing over his hip to repeat the pattern. “Butterfly kisses.”

“What?”

Sherlock sat up, looking at him carefully. “Butterfly kisses. That is what I would sacrifice to you. What I would worship you with.”

John smiled, drawing him down for a kiss. “Why butterfly kisses?”

“Because they would never run out. And it would mean I’d be able to stay with you for an eternity, or however long your temple lasted,” Sherlock said simply. “I’d press myself close to you, and begin at your cheek,” he murmured, doing exactly that, lashes fluttering. “Then your neck and your scar. Your breastbone, your wrists, your ribs,” he continued, anointing each area with a gentle brush of long, dark eyelashes. “This stomach,” he said, following an invisible trail down. “I’d work my way down to your thighs and your calves and then back up.” Sherlock paused as he reached John’s stomach again, tongue slipping gently over John’s skin to pick up a drop of pearly white liquid. “And...once I reached your face again, perhaps it will have been a millenia. And perhaps by then...you would have become a benevolent god.”

“And what would that mean for us?” John asked, holding his gaze and fighting the urge to become lost within the swirling galaxies within.

“It would mean,” Sherlock said quietly. “That you would allow me a boon.”

“A boon?”

“A gift. A blessing.”

“What would you ask for then?” John said, hands moving down to hold Sherlock’s hips. “I am sure that whatever it is, the answer would be yes.”

“I would ask for very little,” Sherlock said.

“Not a triple homicide, locked door murder with all severed heads and a strange fungus?”

Sherlock shook his head, leaning down to share John’s air. “I wouldn’t ask for that.”

“Then ask,” John said, closing his eyes.

“I would ask for a kiss from your lips.”

“Granted for the price of a kiss from yours,” John murmured, pressing their lips together, Sherlock following him down as they sighed in harmony.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


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